


Twitter Shorts (SFW)

by jumpinglamps



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Ficlets, Fluff, M/M, Nesting, Omegaverse (just ch. 9), Sick Fic, The Nishigori kids, Victor’s birthday, Victuri, Yuri spelled with one u, Yuri’s birthday, Yuuko - Freeform, each chapter is a separate one shot, gonna post them here in the same order I uploaded them on twitter, minor injury, one shots, they’re in loooooove, victuri oldies, yakov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 8,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpinglamps/pseuds/jumpinglamps
Summary: Backing up all my twitter shorts here with very minor grammar/typo edits. I’ll link to the original threads at the beginning of each short. Some of these are very short!!The angst tag is mild! All these shorts are mostly self indulgent fluff.Do not repost my content anywhere, including unofficial 3rd party apps.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1063129127392370688?s=21

Yuri and Victor at a coffee shop on a cold day, coats and scarves hanging off the backs of their chairs, wearing warm, thick sweaters and drinking sugary sweet coffee, a warm, flakey pastry shared between them. Their ears and noses are red from the cold and they cling to their coffee mugs to warm their hands. The table is small, so their knees are touching.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1064592158680858624?s=21

Midday on an off day, Victor’s sitting on the couch with a cup of tea and a book. Yuri’s asleep, head pillowed on Victor’s lap, his own cup of tea ignored and cold on the coffee table. His glasses sit perched atop Victor’s head to keep from getting bent or broken.

Makkachin’s asleep on the floor, boofing and twitching in her sleep. The TV’s been long turned off, so it’s quiet but for Makkachin’s small noises and Yuri’s soft breathing. It’s overcast and raining, making the room dim enough for Victor to need the lamp on to read by.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1065299285183467521?s=21

It’s midnight and sleep is tugging at Yuri’s eyelids as he stands over a pot of beet red soup. He’s never made it before, but he’s watched Victor make it for Yurio when he had a cold last month, and the recipe he found online didn’t seem overly complicated.

The smell is more pungent than he could image stomaching while sick, but Victor seemed rather enthusiastic about it when he’d made it, with stories of his aunt bustling about his family home making this soup, fussing about his parents’ incompetence in the kitchen.

When the vegetables are sufficiently soft, Yuri turns down the heat and rummages for a bowl. Why did Victor put the bowls on the top shelf? He strains on his tiptoes, fingertips just brushing the bottom of the shelf. He’s contemplating climbing on the counter when a too-warm weight presses along his back. Victor’s long arm slides along his own and takes down a bowl.

“Victor! You should be in bed.” Yuri half turns to glare at Victor, trapped against the counter. A worrying flush dusts Victor’s cheeks and ears, his movements a bit slower than normal.

“I’m not too sick to get a bowl down,” Victor frowns. Yuri worms his arm free and presses on the crease between Victor’s eyebrows.

“Thank you. But, bed. Now.”

Victor whines and backs away, retreating to their bedroom with Makkachin bouncing after him.

Yuri chuckles as he ladles some soup into the bowl. He loves Victor’s childish side, loves being the one Victor turns to to take care of him in times like this. Even if it means being poked awake in the middle of the night by his sneezy fiancé with requests for a soup he can barely pronounce the name of.

Slowly, cautious not to spill, Yuri carries a tray of soup back to their bedroom. He finds Victor propped up against a mountain of pillows, patting Makkachin and sniffling with a dramatic pout. Victor perks up when the tray is set on his lap, offering a quick thanks before digging in. Yuri distracts Makkachin with pets to keep her away from Victor’s food as he eats, can’t help from cooing at her when she nuzzles into his hands. He convinces her to follow him to the kitchen so he can put away the leftovers with promises of treats.

Though it had turned out to be a mild cold, Yuri’d panicked when he’d woken to Victor sweaty and feverish early this morning. He’d run out and purchased nearly every type of medicine in the “cold and flu” section, only able to read half the labels.

Victor had slept most of the day away, refusing food each time Yuri’d offered him some. He supposes he should’ve anticipated Victor’s late pleas of hunger.

Yuri finishes rinsing out the pot and tosses Makkachin a chewy dog treat before poking his head back in the bedroom.

The tray’s set aside on the night stand and Victor’s snuggled down into the covers, sheets pulled up to his chin. Yuri makes to take the tray away when Victor grabs his wrist, glassy eyes pleading.

“Stay?”

And Yuri can’t deny him. He settles on the edge of the bed and takes Victor’s hand in his own. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Victor smiles with a sniff and relaxes into the bed. It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for his eyes to drift closed, his breathing evening out. Yuri lingers a bit longer still, brushing bits of damp hair from Victor’s forehead. He presses a kiss to the back of Victor’s slack hand, “Get well soon, Vitya.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1067673072231243776?s=21

Normally, Victor would never stay up late with Yuri, would likely encourage Yuri to join him in bed with impossible to resist puppy-pouts and half-hearted tugs on sleeves. Tonight, however, appears to be an exception. Tonight, Victor lingers on the couch long after they’ve cleaned up their dinner plates, watches as Yuri plays through a dungeon in _Diablo_ , head pillowed on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri can hear his slow steady breaths, so close to his ear. It’s calming, and he feels his own breaths slow to match.

It’s approaching 11:30 when worry niggles the back of Yuri’s mind—they’re well past Victor’s bedtime and it’d be a pain to drag him into the bedroom if he fell asleep.

Yuri saves and exits to the game’s main menu, but before he can reach for the remote, Victor’s already got it in hand.

“Tired?” He ruffles Victor’s hair. But Victor just smiles in return. He draws up from the couch, hand smoothing along Yuri’s arm down to his fingertips, brings them to his lips to press a kiss into his knuckles.

“Victor?”

“Dance with me Yuri,” Victor gently tugs and Yuri lifts from the couch with a bemused smile. The coffee table is pushed aside and they make their way to the center of the living room, fall easily in place in each other’s arms. It’s more a rocking hug than a true dance, but Victor’s pulse beats steady against his own when their chests touch and Victor’s big warm hands hold him like a sweater and Yuri can’t imagine pulling away.

“There’s no music,” he murmurs into Victor’s shoulder.

“There’s always music when you move, my Yuri.”

Yuri can’t help the giggle that bubbles out his lips. He pulls Victor closer and starts humming. A meandering tune, slow, soft. Victor guides their shuffle-hug in a circle, smiling into Yuri’s hair. He doesn’t join the humming, just listens and guides their bodies to the tune.

After a while, they come to a natural pause. Victor presses kisses into Yuri’s hair, pulls back to press more to his cheek, warm and soft to his lips. He glances over Yuri’s shoulder, then, lips curling and eyes alight, meets Yuri’s gaze.

“Happy Birthday, Yuri.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1069055724569985024?s=21

The first time Victor sees Yuri asleep is a warm spring evening. It’s been two weeks since their talk on the beach and Yuri’s been slowly opening up to him; snippets of stories from his time in Detroit with Phichit, memories of people in Hasetsu from his childhood. Victor is enamored by Yuri on the ice, fascinated by his skating history. But Yuri _off_ the ice brings him emotions he can’t quite place. A warmth in his chest and cheeks, the sudden realization that Yuri is quite far away from him, too far. Even when they’re standing face to face at the rink, sitting next to each other at dinner. There’s always too much space between them.

Tonight, they’ve been holed up in the family room since dinner, poured over videos and notes about Yuri’s free skate. It’s been a constant back and forth about two transitions in the routine, Yuri exhaustingly adamant they figure out which transitions to use before either of them is allowed to go to bed. Which makes his current situation rather ironic.

The video they’ve been reviewing is paused on an image of Yuri, stopping to look over his shoulder. Victor’s just called to him for a break. The faint pressure of Yuri’s head on his shoulder lights up Victor’s nerves. He can count Yuri’s breaths, thinks he might even be able to feel the air pass through Yuri’s lungs. His glasses have been knocked askew and are pushing his bangs up at an awkward angle. Victor thinks he should probably wake Yuri up but can’t remember the reason why. Can’t remember how exactly his voice is supposed to work.

Yuri’s inched closer with every repeat of today’s practice video, as if sitting closer to Victor and touching the laptop screen might somehow make his point more clear. Victor’s been aware of the space shrinking, of the warmth of Yuri’s body as it grew closer to his own. Yuri’s arm is laying along his own now, soft, like a blanket.

Victor’s frozen.

He wants to move, to wrap his arms around Yuri until they’re blanketing each other, to do the sensible thing and get an actual blanket and let Yuri rest, take just three quick pictures to remember this moment by—

But he can’t move. His chest hurts from how quick his heart’s beating and it’s leaving his entire body feeling startlingly soft. He looks at Yuri. It’s the only thing he can do, really. Counts his eyelashes and listens to him breathe.

He lets his head fall back on the couch cushion behind them and closes his eyes, breathes deep and smell Yuri’s shampoo. His heart calms, his muscles melt into the sofa, into Yuri’s body heat. There must be a word for this feeling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1070357447913758720?s=21

Yuri knows objectively it must be morning because the heavy weight of Makkachin’s paws are bouncing around his legs and there’s an annoying stripe of white light bleeding in from behind the curtain, but his limbs and eyelids seem firmly set in the idea that 7am is still hours away. Maybe, if he lies still enough, Makkachin will go back to sleep for a few more minutes. He just needs to be very quiet...

He feels more than hears Victor grunt into the pillows. Well, that’s over.

Makkachin’s tongue is wet and too hot on his ear and her paws flump across the bedding as she alternates between panting hot spots into the back of Yuri and Victor’s heads.

Yuri reaches behind and ruffles her fur, which he immediate regrets when she _barks_.

“Up,” Yuri pats on Victor’s back and rolls himself to the edge of the bed.

Victor makes an unintelligible noise but otherwise shows no sign of being awake. This only seems to encourage Makka to bounce on his back harder, hard enough earn her a yelp. Yuri can hear Victor whining at her as he rummages through their closet for sweat shirts and pants.

He’ll never understand how Victor can sleep through Russian winters in nothing but his underwear.

Victor’s sitting up, eyes not quite open, patting a wiggling Makkachin when Yuri emerges with their clothes.

“We’re never staying up that late again.” Victor murmurs.

Yuri hums, knowing full well that he, at the very least, absolutely will be staying up till 2 in the morning playing Zelda again tonight, with or without Victor. He puts Victor’s clothes on the bed and kisses the top of his head.

“I’ll walk her if you make coffee.”

Arms wrap around Yuri’s middle, keeping him in place. “Love you,” Victor says, pressing kisses into the soft of Yuri’s stomach.

Yuri chuckles, “Love you too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1071519409708167169?s=21

Breakfast is a disaster.

Yuri moved in with Victor in St. Petersburg a few short weeks ago and they’ve been desperately busy. Every evening and off day they’re away from the rink, they’re unpacking, moving furniture, buying furniture (Yuri didn’t even realize he owned this many books until he started unpacking them). This morning is the first they’ve had free of the looming tower of Yuri’s _stuff_ and as well as of practice and Victor woke up humming and bouncing, announcing they would be cooking breakfast together for the first time.

Yuri had shuffled into the kitchen, bleary eyed and prepared to make maybe some toast with jam or something but Victor had other plans.

“A whole Russian breakfast! The welcome home I never got to do for you!”

Yuri tried weakly to protest that he already felt plenty welcome, but Victor had already set to work on a pan of fried eggs and a pot of porridge, and some kind of fried patty with cottage cheese. Yuri washed some raspberries and set a pot of coffee but was denied any other kitchen tasks he tried to assist with, so he decided to take a walk and let Victor do his thing.

In the time it takes for Yuri to walk Makkachin around the block and back, breakfast has somehow gone horribly wrong. Windows are thrown open to waft out smoke coming off one of the frying pans, the porridge, pot and all, is in the trash can, and spoons and spatulas are inexplicably scattered across the floor. Victor’s standing in the middle of it all, running a nervous hand through his hair, mumbling under his breath.

Yuri sends Makkachin to her food bowl and slowly approaches the kitchen with socked feet.

“Victor?”

Victor jumps, wide eyes landing on Yuri.

“I... I don’t know what happened,” he admits in a whisper, shoulders slumping. After checking that all the burners on the stove have been switched off, Yuri closes in on Victor and twines their fingers together.

Victor’s head falls forward, gently knocking their foreheads together. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Yuri pecks Victor’s lips softly and looks up at him, a bit cross-eyed being so close.

“Let’s go out for breakfast,” Yuri lets his thumbs smooth over the back of Victor’s hands.

“That coffee shop we pass by every day. Yurio swears they have the best lattes and sandwiches.”

Victor huffs, “He shouldn’t be drinking lattes.” But the corners of his mouth turn up in a defeated sort of smile and he returns Yuri’s kiss. “Let’s go get breakfast.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1072612086214209536?s=21

Victor is a morning person. Rain or shine, he’s up early nearly every morning, leaving Yuri to wake up to an empty bed and sounds of Victor’s productivity around the apartment.

This morning, Yuri does not wake up alone. The clouds outside their bedroom window are dark and heavy, obscuring any visual indication of the time. Yuri checks his phone and realizes they’ve missed their alarms. He glances up and notices the stiff line of Victor’s back, hunched shoulders, and realizes their alarms were not missed, but turned off entirely.

Tentatively, he rests his hand on Victor’s side, with just enough pressure to be felt. Victor doesn’t turn around, but he doesn’t push Yuri’s hand away either, so he shuffles closer. He tucks Victor into the loose fold of his arms, resting his forehead against Victor’s nape.

“Are we skipping today?” Yuri murmurs.

Victor shifts in Yuri’s arms, “You should go.”

“I’ll text Yakov,” Yuri tightens his arms, and Victor’s tension eases a fraction.

The room is filled with the sounds of the gentle pattering of rain on their window. Makkachin is snoring and twitching at the foot of the bed.

“Is it what we were talking about last night?” Yuri can’t bring himself to speak above a whisper. Victor quivers in his grasp and nods. He knows Victor’s probably crying. Might have been on and off for a while now. He squeezes Victor impossibly closer, feeling his muscles melt into Yuri’s movement, letting himself be held.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yuri mashes his face into Victor’s back.

“I know,” Victor’s voice cracks.

“I love you.”

“Love you.”

They’re quiet for a long while after that. Yuri holds Victor until he stops shaking and goes limp with sleep. Only then does he take a moment to text Yakov and take Makkachin for a walk.

He comes back to Victor sitting on the couch in the middle of their dark living room.

He’s put on some pants and what looks to be Yuri’s too-small shirt, eyes glued to wet windows. Yuri releases Makkachin from her leash and sets up their coffee maker before joining Victor again. He sits on the couch, head resting on the back cushion, watching, waiting.

Victor doesn’t cry very often, hasn’t since their one big fight. But Yuri suspects that’s more a result of Victor ignoring his negative emotions more than anything. They’d talked last night about things Victor seemed to be giving thought and voice to for the first time, things he didn’t even seem to realize he was upset about until Yuri had asked. Logically, Yuri knows he’s not the reason Victor’s upset now, but the red ring under Victor’s eyes and the pain lining his posture gnaws at Yuri’s gut and fires nervous energy into his fidgety fingers.

Eventually, Victor looks away from the window and meets Yuri’s gaze. He seems calmer, and that does something to help Yuri’s heart settle. Victor pulls Yuri hand—which is shaking, Yuri realizes—into his own and twines their fingers together.

It’s their right hands, pressed into one shape, gold bands glimmering in the low light.

“Forever,” Victor whispers.

Yuri sits up with a surprised breath, looking between Victor’s eyes. Something has fallen into place there, he can feel it.

It feels right, so Yuri responds, “Forever.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1075256714100916226?s=21

“Isn’t it a bit early?” Victor’s standing in the doorway of their walk-in closet, hair damp from his shower.

“Victor! You’ll get sick like that!” Yuri scrounges around his small pile of laundry for a towel.

“Honestly...” he murmurs, stepping over the walls of his nest.

He meets Victor in the doorway, Victor bowing his head obediently to let Yuri rub his hair dry.

Makkachin’s tucked safely into the nest behind him, tail flumping against the pillow near her. Yuri can hear her panting as he draws away from Victor, instinctively bringing the damp towel under his nose and taking a deep breath. The muscles in his shoulders melt at the familiar scent of Victor’s shampoo, of _Victor_. It’s pretty damp, but Yuri might just be able to add it back into the nest if he buries it under some other clothing...

Some of Yuri’s conflict must show on his face as Victor steps into his space and pulls him into the circle of his arms, tossing the towel aside. It’s the perfect angle for Yuri to press his nose into the strongest source of Victor’s scent, in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Makkachin barks, the sound echoing in the small space of the closet.

“Alright, alright,” Victor laughs. He tugs and Yuri follows him down into the nest, trying and failing to resist the urge to fidget with the sweaters and pillows he’d only just added. Victor’s normally barred from seeing Yuri’s nests until they’re complete, sometimes even banning Victor from their bedroom for days on end. Today, however, Victor’s presence feels like an essential piece of the nest, his warmth, his bemused smile, his laughter.

He’s peeking at Yuri from under his lashes and Yuri remembers he’d asked a question.

“The cold,” he can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, “I think it might just be because of the cold.”

Yuri’d only ever been snowed in once before in his life, in an unexpected blizzard in Boston that had taken out power lines. Yuri’d gathered every cloth item in he and Phichit’s dorm in the warmest corner he could find and forced Phichit to sit with him and watch bad movies off his laptop for the better part of two days. His friend had been rather gracious about the whole thing, waving away Yuri’s apologies for hoarding nearly every item of clothing Phichit owned like some kind of dragon.

Victor ruffles Yuri’s hair and pulls him closer, an apology muffled into his hair. They haven’t lost power completely, but the heater went out just hours before the announcement of road and walkway closures, accommodating the small blizzard that had rolled into St. Petersburg overnight.

They fall into the padding of their own shirts and blankets, wrapping around each other like vines, with Makkachin happily flopping across their bodies. It’s blissfully warm, surrounded by Victor’s scent mingled with his own, Victor’s beating heart against his chest and Makkachin’s against his side. It’s a warmth that floods his veins and pulls at his eyelids, evens his breathing.

Victor’s lips are resting soft against his forehead. “Yuri,” he whispers. “Why the closet?”

Yuri squirms, sliding his hands against the exposed skin of Victor’s back in an effort to get closer, warmer. “S’ warmer in here than the bedroom,” he murmurs.

Victor hums, pulling at some of the blankets to cover them. Makkachin wiggles herself around so her body’s laying parallel, wholly on top of theirs, head resting on their arms. Victor’s whispering something about calling the heating company again later, something about canned soup and frozen vegetables.

Yuri’s not sure when he drifts off to sleep, only realizes he did when he wakes, a little colder than before. He jolts up, panic prickling his spine. Victor’s gone, Makkachin’s nosing at his hand, but Victor’s—

“Yuri?”

Yuri’s head whips to the doorway where Victor is standing with a plate full of what looks to be a variety of fruits and cheeses and crackers.

“Sorry, I thought I’d be back before you woke up,” Victor climbs back into the nest and kisses Yuri’s forehead, and Yuri immediately feels the warmth return to his extremities.

“Thought you might be hungry?”

Yuri smiles and pulls at the blankets in his nest, covering first Victor and then himself. Victor slips Makkachin a treat from his pocket and settles the plate between them. He takes a bit of cheese and brings it to Yuri’s lips, a smile dancing in his eyes. With heat in his cheeks Yuri takes a bite, the cool tang melting on his tongue. Cold cheese shouldn’t taste warm, but from Victor’s fingers, it does. Victor laughs, bright, and it fills him, the tiny space of their closet. He tugs on Victor’s blanket and presses their lips together, a light peck, just to feel. When he starts to pull back, Victor pulls him back in, a finger on his chin, tracing his cheek. Their foreheads press together and they breathe.

“We should eat before we get tired again, love,” Victor murmurs, voice already thick with sleep. And Yuri smiles and agrees.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1077300196797759489?s=21

Yuri and Victor, arm-in-arm, collapse on their couch with Makkachin panting at their knees. The small mountain of presents Victor received at his birthday dinner are scattered by the doorway—their rink mates had been very generous gift givers both at Yuri’s birthday and now Victor’s. Victor had received new faux-fur-lined gloves, a smattering of books from his favorite authors, new blade guards for his skates, and, the most awkward to carry home, a karaoke machine from Georgi.

Yuri can’t recall Victor ever pining after karaoke machines in the past, but there had been some off-key drunken singing in Hasetsu when everyone had collected there for Victor and Friends. Perhaps Georgi thought Victor wanted to recreate that experience? Judging by the excitement in Victor’s eyes as he looks upon his hoard, Yuri thinks Georgi might have been right.

Victor turns back to Yuri with a grin that almost entirely consumes his face. “Just one song?”

Yuri laughs. As if he could deny him.

Getting Victor’s “one song” turns out to be a bit more labor intensive than they’d imagined. What kind of machine comes “assembly required”? Victor’s nose is buried in an instruction manual while Yuri sorts through wires and screws and plastic. The machine itself seems to be in one piece so Yuri’s not entirely sure what all this extra plastic is supposed to do. Victor seems equally stumped.

“That piece—no, no, the round one. The other round one. That goes on... the back?”

Yuri flips the machine around. There’s nothing but outlets for wires. “On the back where?”

Victor flips the manual. “Maybe the side?” They go back and forth a few more times before realizing the plastic circle was meant to attach to the bottom of the machine. Then, Yuri quickly discovers that none of the screws fit in the holes in the round plastic thing. He’s rooting through the box to see if he’s missed something when he hears Victor groan and papers rustling.

“Victor?”

The manual’s been tossed aside and Victor’s sorting through wires. “Let’s just plug it in. It should work without all the extra stuff, right?”

The wires and plugs are a breeze for Yuri to sort out, but they don’t seem to fit into their designated holes.

The machine is woefully unbalanced, leaning up against the wall sideways with metal plugs dangling precariously from their slots. Yuri’s not surprised when it remains dark and silent through their attempts to turn it on.

It’s late when they concede defeat to the little machine, collapsed back in their spots on the couch. Well, late for Victor, who seems barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Victor mumbles. Makkachin’s already beat them there, and is snoring in their bedroom. But Yuri’s determined—Victor’s Birthday is _not_ going to end like this.

He sits up and waits for Victor to meet his eyes. “Pick a song.”

Victor blinks, then breaks out in another wide smile. “Any song?”

Yuri nods with so much vigor, his glasses slide forward on his nose.

And that’s how Yuri ends up singing Britney’s “Toxic” at the top of his lungs, far too sober with only a YouTube video on his phone for background. He forgets most of the verses, but Victor chimes in and makes Yuri’s solo a duet, singing all the lines Yuri flubs on. The ending violins play from Yuri’s phone and they lean on each other, red-faced and breathless. Victor starts giggling and it’s contagious. They wrap each other up in a loose hug, laughing themselves silly in their silent living room.

Victor pulls Yuri’s face up by the chin and kisses his nose, his cheeks, his lips. Yuri locks Victor’s head in place with a hand buried in his hair and deepens their kiss just enough to leave Victor blushing to his ears. He enjoys the heat coming from Victor’s cheeks, smiles against his lips. “Happy Birthday, Vitya.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1083141579265769475?s=21

Yuri arrives in Russia on a cool morning, not cold enough for a coat, but enough to leave the tips of his ears and nose flushed. He finds Victor waiting for him just outside the arrival gates and falls into his arms, oblivious to a disgruntled Yurio nearby. He doesn’t have the capacity to see or think or feel anything that isn’t Victor in this moment. Victor’s smile, his smell, his lips, his warmth, his damp tears and murmured honeyed words.

They’ve been apart for exactly 3 weeks while Yuri trained for competition and packed his things. Of course, he’d spoken to Victor at least once every day, sometimes with video chat, usually ending their call with an attempt to convince Victor not to jump on the next flight to Japan and to stay put to train for his own competition. It was Yuri’s little secret that he’d had to stop himself a few times from calling a taxi to take him to the nearest airport.

But now, now he has his Victor back. He doesn’t have to listen to an echoy phone call to hear his voice in his ear or break out that old gray workout shirt Victor had “forgotten” in Hasetsu to get a faded whiff of his scent, the ghost of his warmth.

They cling to each other through Yurio’s grumbling, interlock their fingers and lean together like twin bowing trees as Victor drives them to _their_ apartment. They’re in each other’s laps throughout Yuri’s surprise “welcome to Russia” dinner with all his new rink mates, intertwined together as if trying to merge into one single body through the rest of the night.

Victor’s been clingy the whole of the time Yuri’s known him, and while Yuri’s slowly learned to like, love, count on Victor’s enthusiasm for physical closeness, Yuri’s never felt quite as... obnoxiously clingy himself as he does now. Victor follows him around their apartment like a lost puppy their first day alone, Yuri pulling him back, feeling just shy of desperate, the few times Victor attempts to leave the room he’s in.

It’s already his fourth day in Russia, his second at his new home rink, and he can’t keep himself from drifting to whatever end of the ice Victor happens to be standing on. No one’s said anything, but there’s no way they haven’t noticed. Yuri’d be annoyed with himself if Victor didn’t seem to be enjoying his proximity so much.

Victor leans back where Yuri is hovering and lets his hand rest on Yuri’s back, Yurio’s groan letting them know they’ve been noticed. But Victor just smiles, nods at the direction Yakov’s shouting his way.

Victor keeps his hands on Yuri every moment they’re not moving, and Yuri leans into each and every touch. Their arms find rest at each other’s backs on their walk home, their fingers link together when they stop to pick up ingredients to make dinner.

They’re at home, working quietly in the kitchen with Makkachin prancing around with a toy nearby when worry rears its head in Yuri’s mind.

“Is it too much?” He doesn’t intend to say out loud.

Victor looks over his shoulder, “No, I think that’s a good amount of carrot.”

Yuri turns to look Victor in the eye, setting his knife aside. “I mean, um, am I being too...” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. Victor pauses his preparation of their chicken and gives Yuri his full attention, silent, patient.

“...touchy?” Yuri’s fingers twist into the end of his shirt.

At first, Victor doesn’t respond at all. Keeps his eyes trained on Yuri’s face, searching for something there. He steps closer, brings the backs of his fingers up to drift along Yuri’s cheek. Just that light touch brings Yuri’s heart rate down a beat, like morphine spreading down to his fingertips and toes. And Victor smiles, a dopey, lovely thing.

Yuri turns and presses a kiss to Victor’s fingers. “So... no?”

Victor’s hand spreads so he’s cupping the side of Yuri’s face, touches still feather light. “Not to me. Is it to you?”

Yuri smiles against Victor’s hand and shakes his head. They come together in a lazy hug, more resting on each other than actively holding one another. He listens to Victor’s breaths, steady by his ear, feels each gust flutter through his hair. He pulls back enough to bring their lips together.

“I missed you,” he murmurs when they part.

And Victor laughs, “Missed you more.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1088581002358861827?s=21

The hiss of blades skidding wrong on ice and Yuri’s landing ass-first. It’s the fifth time he’s missed this jump today and frustration is making his footwork sloppy. This fall feels a little harder than the others, his hands smarting hot against the ice. Especially frustrating is the fact that he making all these mistakes in front of _Victor_.

Victor’s lived in Hastetsu for a few months now, practiced with him, shared meals and conversations. Little by little, he’s found himself looking for Victor in the corner of his vision, felt oddly hallowed the few instances he hasn’t found him with a quick turn of his head. But occasionally he still finds himself awestruck, a little tingly at the fingertips when it washes over him all over again that Victor is not only here, but here for _him_.

Then there are moments like this, when he struggles to ensure Victor isn’t wasting his time on him. Wishes that Victor hadn’t taken that plane to Hasetsu just to watch him eat ice over and over.

He hears Victor calling out to him, and his gut reaction is to say nothing and keep skating, maybe take a “break” and let his negative thoughts have their way with him in the locker room for a few minutes. But he’s practiced this.

A little shorter than he’d intended, Yuri manages an, “I’m fine.” Just as he starts moving to get back on his feet, he notices Victor entering the rink.

Shock pins him to the ice for the briefest of moments and then Victor is falling to his knees, crowding into Yuri’s space and his mind blanks.

He doesn’t realize Victor’s asking him a question until it’s repeated for the third time, “Yuri, your hand?”

His hand? He looks down and notices a red smear on the ice. He’s going to need to apologize to Yuko.

Belatedly, he remembers he should give Victor some response, but Victor seems to be done waiting. He grabs Yuri’s hand and lifts it to inspect closer. Victor’s so close. He should be concerned, at least marginally about his own hand but he can’t bring his mind to focus on anything but Victor’s pale lashes, the faintest sprinkle of freckles on his cheeks and neck, only noticeable up close like this. Victor’s murmuring something and moves to take Yuri’s other hand and Yuri lets him. Feels Victor’s weight shift infinitesimally to lean in more, knees resting so they just touch Yuri’s thighs. Victor’s smell, almost floral, but richer, cuts through the cold, metallic scent of the ice, and it’s relaxing. Beautiful. Everything about Victor is beautiful.

“...but a plaster should do. Think I’ve got some in my bag.” Victor’s talking a bit louder. His words poke through the fog in Yuri’s brain and he suddenly remembers why they’re both sitting on the ice instead of skating on it.

“Oh.” Is the only word his helpful brain supplies.

Victor glances up with a flutter of eyelashes. Their eyes meet and Yuri watches Victor’s pupils widen, making the ocean color of his eyes somehow more intense than normal. He wonders if his own eyes are doing the same.

“Oh.” Victor says back and that’s somehow enough. They should be doing something but the fog is creeping back in and Yuri can’t bring himself to care about whatever that “thing” was. Victor’s fingers on his wrists go lax, gentle, no longer holding him in place, just resting on his skin, over his pulse. Yuri wonders if it’s faster than normal. That’s what people always say, right? Something about hearts racing?

He can feel Victor’s breath. Warm with a hint of toothpaste. If they could stay like this, lean closer, if he could feel just a little more of Victor’s warmth...

A bang startles them enough that Victor drops his hands. The door; one of the little Nishigoris—no, all of the little Nishigoris file in with too-loud voices, backpacks strapped to them. One of them shushes the others. “Mom said only if we’re quiet!” she yell-whispers.

Yuri hears himself giggling and leans back, his hands reminding him with a sharp sting that they shouldn’t be used to support his weight just yet. Victor’s laughing too, smile bright and cheeks pink.

He grabs Yuri by the forearms and hoists them both shakily to their feet.

“Come on,” he says with a tug, “let’s get you patched up.” And Yuri follows.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1091371051945213952?s=21

It’s a mild day, the sun bright, but not blinding, temperature warm enough to prevent frost from forming on windows in the early mornings. Yuri’s situated himself below the bedroom window, wanting, perhaps subconsciously, to be near the pleasantness of the outdoors, but not willing yet to look it head on. Near it, but not touching it. Tainting it.

He’s pulled the comforter off the bed and has it wrapped around him, over his head, fingers buried deep in the fabric, clenching and unclenching. His eyes hurt. His knees are pulled tight into his chest as if to keep it from splintering apart.

This isn’t the first time he’s felt like this around Victor, but it is the first since they moved to Russia. Victor’s out, picking up something from the store, Yuri thinks. He can’t quite remember. He hadn’t been listening.

A bad habit. He should work on that.

He wants Victor to come home, hold him down, keep his pieces together in his arms. He wants Victor to stay away until he gets himself together. His knuckles are white, gripping the comforter taught around him.

The front door creaks open and Victor’s calling out to him. Makkachin doesn’t move from her post at the bedroom door. Yuri can hear her tail flumping against the hardwood floor. Then the bedroom door’s opening and Yuri tenses.

Victor’s legs come into view. He’s still wearing his shoes and the left one has a scuff on the toe. Then Yuri can see his knees, his shoulders. And wordlessly, Victor’s arms come around him, comforter and all, and he’s been dry-eyed for a little while now but that appears to be over. The sobs wrack through him, more violent and painful than before, and Victor says nothing, squeezes him so tight it hurts.

Once Yuri’s calmed down some, Victor takes them to the living room. Yuri keeps the comforter, though he allows it to drape down and expose his head and shoulders. Victor’s made them tea that Yuri takes a couple of sips of then mostly ignores, savoring instead the warmth seeping from the mug into his fingertips. Victor stays close, and eventually, Yuri leans into him, lets his face mash into Victor’s warm skin, lets himself be surrounded by Victor’s smell. Gentle fingers touch the raw skin under his eyes, followed by soft lips. Victor wants to ask, but doesn’t. The soft touches and silence steal the last bit of tension from Yuri’s spine, take the stopper out of his lungs and he finally takes a deep breath.

Later, they’ll make dinner together with whatever Victor’s brought back from the market and they’ll talk. About the little things, the big things, the things that’ve stacked on top of each other the way they always do. And they’ll walk Makkachin the long way around the park at Yuri’s favorite time of day, when the sun’s light starts fading enough for the city lights kick on and twinkle along streets and sidewalks.

But for now, Yuri settles into the arms around him, feels Victor humming a slow song from his cheek on Victor’s chest, a song that puts water and sunlight in Yuri’s mind.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1096092441004916737?s=21
> 
> Valentine’s Day, 40 something year old Victuri. They have 3 dogs: Kin, Pasha, and Aliona.

Yuri wakes with the sun, bright and warm on his face. He stretches, shoulders crackling, feeling Kin, their mini poodle, shift at his feet. To his right he finds the book Victor’s been reading, a tasseled bookmark wedged between the pages a little over halfway through. Victor’s voice, low and lovely, hums along outside the bedroom. He can hear dishes clinking against each other, so Victor’s likely in the kitchen, setting out dog food and some water. Kin wiggles at Yuri’s feet, tail thumping a steady rhythm against the bed. Yuri smiles, sitting up and cooing until she bounces into his open arms, all hot breath and wiggling fluff.

The door creaks and Victor peaks in the room, followed by a rush of paws pounding wood floors and muted boofs and Yuri is flattened back onto the bed as their other, larger dogs, Pasha and Aliona bound into his lap. Victor laughs, and Yuri almost doesn’t mind that he’s being entirely unhelpful. As it is, he does his best to pout Victor’s way through his own giggles, bites Victor’s cheek when he’s finally freed from the pile of dogs.

Most of their mornings these days are slow, and Yuri likes them that way. This morning in particular they’ve left free. They take the long way around on their morning walk, detour down the beach to let the dogs run along the shore. Their arms slide into place at each other’s backs, and Yuri takes a moment to watch the sunlight dance in Victor’s eyes, soften the lines of his face. Yuri squeezes Victor’s side, just because he can, and feels Victor squeeze him back, sees a smile crinkle the corners of his eyes. They pause to watch the water, gazes drifting between the balls of fluff circling their feet and the sparkling horizon. Children laugh somewhere along the shore. Yuri leans into Victor’s shoulder, feels the gentle weight of Victor’s head where it rests on top of his own.

They don’t head back for their town home till the dogs come back to them, slow and breathing heavy.

The sun’s high in the sky when they head back out on their own, leaving Kin, Pasha and Aliona to nap the afternoon away. Victor’s made a reservation at some new restaurant in town but they’ve got hours still, so they mill around Victor’s favorite clothing store for a new sweater. Yuri tucks into a chair by the fitting room, scrolling through his phone while Victor flits back and forth with arms full of clothes.

He startles, cold air and giggles echoing in his ear, realizing belatedly that he’d dozed off.

“My little old man,” Victor tweaks his nose.

Yuri frowns, “That’s not very romantic.” He pokes at Victor’s brow, ready to retaliate when Victor snatches him by the wrist, folding his hand to bring it up to his lips.

“You’re right,” Victor murmurs, catching Yuri’s eye, “This is much better.” And Yuri can’t help but smile at that.

Next on the agenda is chocolate—they gave up trying to keep up with whose turn it was to give on Valentine’s versus White Day about 10 years ago, deciding instead to share a gift together at both holidays. They land on chocolate ice cream this year, despite the chill in the air. The heater in the ice cream shop keeps them warm enough at their little two-person table, Yuri with his chocolate cone and Victor with mint. He takes a lick of Yuri’s, considering that his dose of chocolate.

“We should call Yuko,” Yuri says between licks. It’s her anniversary, after all. Victor hums and takes a bite of his cone.

“In a bit,” Victor twists their ankles together under the table, toeing at the hem of Yuri’s trousers with his shoe.

Yuri laughs, tips his cone to leave behind a bit of cold chocolate on Victor’s nose.

“Yuri!” Victor dips his finger into Yuri’s cone, dabbing him on the nose before he can dodge. Their laughter is loud enough to earn them the attention of neighboring tables, so they quiet down to a giggle, locking their fingers together, sticky and warm. Yuri brings their joined hands to his lips, returns Victor’s kiss from the shop earlier.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He murmurs against the bumps of their knuckles.

And Victor smiles, “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1108883039961133056?s=21

Victor recovering from a cold, sitting on the couch, wrapped in a thick fluffy blanket with a mug of tea. Reruns of an old drama are playing on TV, the volume switched off—Victor’s not paying much attention anyway. Instead, he watches his husband nap in a nearby armchair, their new puppy curled up fast asleep on his chest. His glasses have slid halfway down his nose. The puppy twitches and boofs, a little squeaky thing. Were he well, Victor would pull them both to the couch with him for a good nap. As it is, he contents himself watching, a picture of the moment securely stored in the Yuri❤️ folder on his phone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1113827673053310976?s=21

Their first kiss is an accident.

The summer heat is at its peak; Victor’s started joining Yuri on morning runs instead of bicycling ahead of him. Yuri’s not sure why—they both end up drenched in sweat and out of breath, barely able to carry a conversation over their panting, but he appreciates being closer to Victor every morning, as close as either of them can stand in this heat.

They both shower before they enter the rink, and it always feels odd to strip out of running shorts and T-shirts to don the thick sweat pants and long sleeves that skating rink temperatures demand.

Victor spends their practice talking to Yuri’s lips. It’s not the first time; Victor’s stared at, even touched his mouth before. But today Victor’s eyes are a physical weight on him. His mouth is buzzing, as if he’s eaten too much sour candy and he can’t get Victor’s eyes out of his head. He sees blue when he practices his spins, the arch of a silver brow when he goes through the motions of his footwork. Victor’s voice is a constant, “one more time,” “that’s good Yuri,” “try that one again,” “take a break Yuri.”

Victor is everything and everywhere in this rink, in his head. He swears the water Victor hands him tastes like him—how would Victor taste?

But that’s a dangerous thought, so Yuri pulls away and lets Victor’s eyes cling to his movements as he dances across the ice.

At home, Victor follows Yuri from room to room, as he does every night. He’s more comfortable with Yuri’s family now, will sometimes linger in the kitchen with his mother, laugh at his sister’s teasing.

But he’s never too far from Yuri, never more than two breaths from Yuri’s side, and something in Yuri’s chest swells at that.

They’re in Victor’s room, on Victor’s bed, playing back some of the recordings from practice on Yuri’s laptop. It doesn’t feel awkward, sitting next to Victor. It’s easy, listening to his breathing, laughing at his jokes (laughing at things Victor didn’t intend to be jokes). It’s easy to lean against Victor’s arm and reach for the trackpad to show Victor a silly video of a cat he’s had on his mind all day. It’s easy, when he feels Victor’s eyes on his lips again, to understand what Victor wants, and it’s easy to give it to him.

He doesn’t quite realize what he’s done until he pulls away and their eyes meet. Blue eyes wide, cheeks and nose dusted in pink. And Yuri can feel heat in his own cheeks, wants to apologize, starts to, but Victor beats him to it “Can we do that again?” A whisper, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it. But he did. His eyes dance over Yuri’s face, between his eyes and lips, open, wanting. And what else can Yuri do with the warm, fizzy bubbles in his stomach, his hands, his brain, but smile and say “yes.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1118949498166894593?s=21

It’s late in the morning—Victor switched off their alarm before it could wake Yuri up, deciding to forgo a morning jog in favor of laying in bed and watching his husband sleep. Makkachin hasn’t stirred from her own sleep yet so Victor feels safe in his decision to enjoy a lazy morning. He watches pale light peeking from behind the curtain flood pieces of Yuri’s dark hair, making them look golden.

A bit of light lands on Yuri’s ear, and Victor’s sure it must feel warm. In his curiosity, he lets a finger ghost along the shell. It’s soft and red, and just as warm as he’d imagined. He lets his fingers continue to move, light as a feather, through a bit of Yuri’s hair, down the soft skin of his arm, exposed over the blanket. Yuri tends to get cold easily in his sleep; he wonders if Yuri might feel cold now. He’s playing with Yuri’s slack fingers when he hears the little grunts of Yuri’s waking.

He smiles, “Good morning my sleeping beauty. I didn’t wake you did I?”

Yuri peaks at Victor, squinting through one eye. It’s adorable and Victor wants to squeeze him close, maybe take a picture. Instead he waits, and at length, Yuri smiles and shakes his head, “‘s fine.”

Victor takes a moment to kiss the tips of Yuri’s fingers, just to keep that smile on his face. Then Makkachin seems to notice the two of them awake, and their lazy morning is over.

They walk her together, Victor basking in the spring warmth in his thin T-shirt, though Yuri still insists on wearing a jacket. Their fingers tangle together absently as they walk.

Their walk is a short one; Victor sets up the coffee maker when they return and Yuri heads back to the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth when Victor walks in, slides up behind him and rests his chins on his shoulder. Yuri giggles around his toothbrush as Victor’s fingers dance light at his stomach, under the hem of his shirt. Yuri pulls away to spit and clean his mouth off and turns around, falling back into place in Victor’s arms.

They sway in the space of the small bathroom to nonexistent music, Victor smiling into Yuri’s hair. He can smell Yuri’s toothpaste, can smell the spring breeze clinging to his soft hair.

He pulls back and pecks Yuri on the tip of his nose, watching it scrunch adorably.

“I think it’s your turn to brush your teeth.” He says. And Victor laughs, bright and open.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original thread: https://twitter.com/_jumpinglamps/status/1120394099817943041?s=21

Yuri loves the rain. It’s relaxing to listen to, to watch. Makes him think of evenings spent with his family, drinking tea and watching game shows. Victor, however, doesn’t have fond memories of rain. It’s not that he has particularly unpleasant associations with rain (none that he’s talked about anyway)—he just hates being cooped up in the house. He loves dragging Yuri out, to the beach, to their favorite coffee shop, shopping in general.

They’d woken this morning to a downpour and the weather apps on their phones claimed it wouldn’t let up all afternoon. So Yuri happily made some tea for the both of them while Victor tried to distract himself playing with Makkachin. He’s of course worn her out by now—she’s snoring on her big dog bed behind the couch. Victor’s laying flat on the couch; having flipped through every TV station and the Netflix library, he’s started accumulating a small pile of rejected books on the floor next to him. One book, surely soon to be rejected as well, is laying open on his face. Yuri can’t help but laugh at him, grumbling into the innocent pages of his mystery novel. He tries to stifle the noise behind his hand but Victor hears him anyway, tosses his book aside to pout adorably.

“Yuri I’m so boooored,” he whines. He turns, puppy eyes boring into Yuri, pleading. He knows what Victor’s asking for, knows that Victor knows he’d never be able to deny him. So Yuri rolls his eyes and worms out of his cocoon of blankets. He kneels by the couch and pushes Victor’s soft hair out of his eyes, watching the pout clear from his face like the sun, sparkling through cottony clouds. He kisses Victor’s parted lips, soft, brief, and pulls away again.

“Better?”

Victor loops his fingers in the short hairs at Yuri’s neck, “Maybe just one more?” And Yuri smiles and obliges.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
